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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506843">O That I On Wings Could Rise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmy/pseuds/wyrmy'>wyrmy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Our Hopes of Endless Light [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has PTSD (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bickering, Canon Compliant, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Guilt, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Learning To Communicate, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Miscommunication, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, no sex scene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:41:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmy/pseuds/wyrmy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had been one month since the apocalypse, and Aziraphale was blissfully happy. Crowley was everything- and more- that he could wish for in a boyfriend. Their relationship was an unending source of joy."</p><p>Why then does Aziraphale feel a lingering unease, an emotional tension that he doesn't quite know how to release?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Our Hopes of Endless Light [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There are several references to the fact that the characters are in a sexual relationship, but there are no sex scenes, there's no explicit language, and certainly nothing that could be described as pornography. They do decide to have sex at one point, but don't end up getting around to it.<br/>There are also some descriptions of some fairly unpleasant emotional states, such as getting triggered and having a spontaneous crying jag.<br/>That's about it for warnings. Chapter two should be up in five days time, or when its finished, whichever comes later.<br/>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been one month since the apocalypse, and Aziraphale was blissfully happy. Crowley was everything- and more- that he could wish for in a boyfriend. Their relationship was an unending source of joy. It was a joy to fall asleep next to Crowley in the bed that was now “their bed”, it was a joy to wake the next morning, and a joy to brew Crowley a pot of coffee while he slept, as he was doing now. There was a wonderful calm quality to the little flat above the bookshop in the mornings. No sound disturbed the air except for his partner’s gentle breathing.</p><p>Aziraphale stood in the flat’s small kitchen and while he made Crowley’s coffee and sent a prayer of thanks to God for allowing him the blessing of this relationship, the blessing of being able to pay back the debt of kindness he owed Crowley for so many years of cruelty.</p><p>He could never undo the damage of, for instance, the fight they had had in 1862, but he could make up for a part of it, a little at a time. He took the coffee with him when he went to wake Crowley.</p><p>“Gerrof, you big stupid angel. Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?” Crowley growled at him, when prodded as gently as possible.</p><p>“Yes dear. But it’s been eight hours and you know how you get when you oversleep. You’re liable to snake around all day and get under my feet. And if I trip over you, you’ll quote that twitter about “kick like the football; jail for angel for one thousand years” and you’ll hiss at me in a most disagreeable way.”</p><p>“Maybe you deserve it when you trample me with your horrible angel hooves. Maybe you should go to jail for One Thousand Years,” Crowley said quite without malice as he buried his face under his pillow.</p><p>“I’ve never understood why you quote that to me.”</p><p>“S’a meme, Angel! Repetition and quotation are the entire point. It’s like all the Greek myths and whatnot we used to always quote and reference. O lente, lente currite noctis equi and all that sort of thing.”</p><p>“Well the horses of the night can’t run slowly darling, because it’s daytime. I’ve made you coffee.” He leant across the bed to kiss Crowley’s shoulder where it stuck out from the tangle of his limbs under the sheets. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Mmm. I’m surprised you couldn’t smell it. It’s on the nightstand.”</p><p>“Did anyone tell you, Augustus Fell, that you look just like a real angel?” Crowley said seriously, pausing his slither across the bed towards his caffeine fix to regard Aziraphale fully in the eyes.</p><p>“You think I’m an Augustus?”</p><p>“Definitely. You look terrifically imperial. You’ve got the hair for laurels, baby, and you’ve got the figure for a toga. I love undressing you, don’t ever mistake me, but sometimes I wish you’d wear something a bit… breezier.”</p><p>“You fiend,” said Aziraphale, blushing a bit despite himself.</p><p>“Oh now I’ve done it. I’ve flustered an angel. Call the fire brigade, smoke’s coming out of his ears.” </p><p>“You won’t tempt me so easily today, adversary, I made us crepes this morning.”</p><p>“Which means that if I check the bin I’ll find some vaguely crepe-shaped cinders burnt entirely to a crisp?”</p><p>“And if you check our plates you’ll find lovely crepes from that place down the road, ferried here by an entirely frivolous miracle.”</p><p>“I’ve corrupted you.”</p><p>“Irrevocably. I’m horribly debauched. And if you kiss my neck one more time I shall be obliged to have intercourse with you and my crepes will go cold and I shall be in a terrible snit.”</p><p>“Now there’s an idea. Let me ruin your day for you,” he purred in his throatiest tempting voice.</p><p>“Only dearest I really am quite hungry.”</p><p>“Say no more, o flower-scented bastard of my hopes, only lead me to the breakfast table.”</p><p>*</p><p>Aziraphale felt his energy levels starting to flag the moment Crowley started asking after him at breakfast. Had he slept well? How was he this morning? Was he not hungry?</p><p>Aziraphale was frankly still unused to eating a morning meal, since it was something he had rarely indulged in before a month ago. It was only once he could get Crowley onto the subject of the news that he stopped being so irritatingly uxorious and started enjoying himself again.</p><p>“Fresh takes from Marxist-Leninist-Maoist twitter today,” he announced. “Jeremy Corbyn is getting called a Dengist, and for the fifth time this week Stalin is getting officially cancelled.”</p><p>“Goodness, again,” murmured Aziraphale. “I thought he was fairly dead by now.”</p><p>“Oh, bad news, Angel. Premarital sex is apparently a slippery slope into fascism, according to… a shark furry.”</p><p>“I thought furries were generally in favour of the principle of free love.”</p><p>“It takes all sorts in this beautiful world of ours.”</p><p>“Oh indubitably,” said Aziraphale, toasting him.</p><p>*</p><p>Crowley went out on his own mysterious business, as he did most mornings, at Aziraphale’s suggestion.  Aziraphale had practically had to chase him out the door the first few times. The fact was that Crowley was an energetic person, easily bored and in constant need to stimulation. Aziraphale knew, it seemed, better than anyone how much Crowley needed to go out and drive around or talk to people. Or whatever it was that he did.</p><p>Aziraphale saw him off with a kiss, and then watched the Bentley peel away from the kerb and off down the street. </p><p>He would open the bookshop later. First he had something he needed to do. </p><p>He had no idea why he felt the need to do it. There was no rational explanation that he could discover. </p><p>What he did was this. He went upstairs to the bathroom, pulled down the blinds, locked the door, and sat down on the chair. He breathed deeply and relaxed his shoulders. He rubbed his hands over his face and felt himself start to cry. He kept a hand over his mouth, so as to keep quiet as possible. When it was finished he washed his face and examined it in the mirror. </p><p>Do I look like I’ve been crying? He wondered. Do I look unhappy? He didn’t want Crowley to think he was unhappy. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful. His examination finished, Aziraphale raised the blinds, left the bathroom, and went to open his bookshop. He didn’t feel refreshed, exactly, but lighter, somehow. Relieved. </p><p>For most of the morning, traffic in the shop was slow, so Aziraphale read with a cup of tea at his elbow. Customers mostly ignored him, and he certainly ignored them. </p><p>When he finished his book, he got up from his favorite chair to replace it on the shelf and get a new one. He wandered through his shop, considering this or that volume to read next, debating the merits of each option in a leisurely fashion. </p><p>Then he saw Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>He jumped so violently that he careened into a bookshelf. He turned, staggering, to face Gabriel head-on only to realize that it was not Gabriel at all, but a human who happened to be about the same height wearing a dove-gray coat. The human looked worriedly at him. </p><p>“Sorry,” he said. “You startled me a bit, that’s all.” He blushed beet-red and picked a book off the shelf at random before bustling off. </p><p>When he sat down to read, however, his concentration was poor. He re-read the same phrases over and over without knowing it. It was odd: He had been tried in Hell by demons, but when he was worried it was always the image of angels that he couldn’t get out of his head. He read fitfully until a little after 11, when Crowley breezed into the shop and banished the customers.</p><p>“Hey, Angel!” he called out as he came through the door. “How’s the reading going? D’you feel like a break yet?”</p><p>“Certainly,” said Aziraphale with great relief.</p><p>When Crowley rounded the corner, however, he was carrying a pastry box.</p><p>“Got you a little something, Angel,” he said.</p><p>“Oh you shouldn’t have!” cried Aziraphale with perhaps a little too much sincerity. </p><p>The pastries were lovely, and they were from a bakery that Aziraphale liked very much, but he felt guilty accepting them. How many times had Crowley given him a gift when he had nothing to give in return? With every gift that Crowley gave, it would be harder for Aziraphale to catch up. </p><p>He listened while Crowley reported some juicy gossip and a few anecdotes, and managed to produce the correct facial expressions, but the pastries were ashes in his mouth and it was all he could do to choke them down. Crowley talked energetically for perhaps an hour, getting stuck on some obscure political point that he had extremely strong feelings about. Aziraphale nodded along as his mind turned over and over all the times that Crowley had given him little pastries, or knick-knacks, or whatever else. Crowley had been kind to him since the garden and all he’d gotten in return were cruelty, insults, and rejections.  </p><p>“Angel?” said Crowley, very pointedly.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“I was asking if you wanted to have lunch somewhere. Though you seem a bit tired. We don’t have to.”</p><p>“Oh, no that would be lovely,” Aziraphale lied. What he really needed was a few hours of total peace and quiet, preferably lying under his weighted blanket. He really was very tired. The blanket was embarrassing though, and he didn’t want Crowley to see it and think him childish. Besides which, it was his duty to go where Crowley went. To behave the way he had before everything. To remain the person that Crowley had fallen in love with.</p><p>They went to a restaurant that Aziraphale had mentioned wanting to try once (why was Crowley so considerate?) and had a surprisingly pleasant time. Eating recharged Aziraphale’s energy somewhat, and Crowley seemed to sense how tired he felt, because his conversation wasn’t particularly intense or demanding, and the restaurant got abnormally quiet while they ate there. The only problem came when it was time to pay the bill. </p><p>“Oh, I can pay,” said Aziraphale, fishing out his wallet.</p><p>“Nonsense, angel. My treat,” Crowley was cheerful, pleased to be able to do Aziraphale yet one more in an unending line of favours. A few months ago, Aziraphale would have been pleased too, and taken this kind gesture as a sign that Crowley liked him. Now, however…</p><p>“No, really, let me pay this time. I’m perfectly capable of affording it.”</p><p>“I never said you weren’t. I was just trying to- make, you know, a gesture.”</p><p>“Well it’s really not necessary. You don’t need to make gestures at me anymore.”</p><p>“I know it’s not necessary. I like to. That’s why I do it. I like doing things for you.”</p><p>“Just because you like something doesn’t mean I do. Really you needn’t trouble yourself.”</p><p>“If that’s the way you feel about it,” snapped Crowley.</p><p>Crowley picked up his coat and left. Aziraphale did pay the bill after that, and went out to find Crowley leaning on the bonnet of the Bentley, a cigarette in his mouth.</p><p>“What was that about, Angel?” he said. His sunglasses were like blank discs. There was nothing to read in them.</p><p>“Um,” said Aziraphale. He was trying to calculate how much of the truth he could reasonably tell. “I think I expressed myself badly. I do like it when you do me favours, of course I do. I would just like to do things for you in exchange, that’s all. I’m sorry for making for making such a mess of things.”</p><p>Crowley vanished his cigarette into thin air and gave Aziraphale a smile.</p><p>“It’s fine. Think nothing of it,” he said. He took off his sunglasses and looked Aziraphale in the eye. “Really. Just a minor disagreement. Let’s go home, Angel.”</p><p>*</p><p>Crowley was a cuddly person, which had been a revelation. He liked nothing more than to crunch himself up against Aziraphale on the sofa, either while doing mysterious things on his telephone, or while dozing. </p><p>He started with the former and transitioned into the latter very smoothly.</p><p>He was asleep, or nearly so, with his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. It was… nice. It was always a pleasure to touch Crowley, in whatever way. It was nice to be trusted.</p><p>He’d made a mess of things at lunch. His hand clenched convulsively with guilt as he thought about how he hurt Crowley. Offended him, and, as always, rebuffed him.</p><p>Back when he was still working for heaven, Aziraphale had worried that he couldn’t do anything right. No matter how closely he followed his instructions or how well things went, there was always something wrong with his work. He had held out hope that his incompetence would not extend to his private life. </p><p>Well there was no use in giving up. Crowley was too important. What he needed to do was to reorganize his priorities. Making Crowley happy in the short term, by keeping up their old traditions, by being agreeable, was more important than making reparations over the long term. </p><p>Aziraphale wished that he, too, could curl up next to his partner and sleep.</p><p>He ran a hand over his waistcoat, an action that had always been comforting before. More recently, however, it had started to make him think of angels, reminded him how often he would tug at and fiddle with it when talking to them, how nervous they made him feel. He had never been a very good angel, which was for the best since the angels themselves were not very good, objectively speaking.</p><p> But he had wanted the angels to like him, or at least tolerate him, or at least not hurt him, and he failed quite decisively at that. This was worrying. He didn’t have a history of competence. He had a history of not relating very well to other people, and not knowing how to be the person others wanted him to be, of receiving love he was not sure how to earn and of being damnably weak and soft. He cared more about being good to Crowley- being good for Crowley- than he’d ever cared about anything. It was almost frantic how much he wanted to be perfect, strong, loving for Crowley, how he needed to quickly pay off the mountain of debt that he had racked up all those long years that he glutted himself on the food Crowley bought him, holding him all the while at arm’s length.</p><p>And yet past experience suggested that he would fail at this like he had failed at so much. </p><p>When he checked his pocket watch again it was 6 o’clock. </p><p>“Wake up, sweetheart. Its dinner time,” he said, running a hand gently over Crowley’s hair.</p><p>“enjk slcniuw csliu,” said Crowley</p><p>“How articulate you are. Wherever did you learn such good diction?”</p><p>“I’d like to see you be articulate at 3 AM in the bloody morning, Mr. Queen’s English.”</p><p>“As dire as I’m sure your lot in life seems, it is in fact only 6 in the evening and I thought you might like to have dinner.”</p><p>“Are you asking me on a date? I’ll have to decline. You see, I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s incredibly tall and muscular and he’ll be insanely jealous.”</p><p>“Well I had better leave you alone then and eat all by myself. Such a shame, really.”</p><p>“What’s on the menu, Angel?”</p><p>“I thought you might like to choose.”</p><p>*</p><p>That night Crowley wanted to make love. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly in the mood, but he wanted to feel useful, for a change, so he lied to Crowley and gave it a try. </p><p>Crowley seemed to want to take things very slowly, which was unusual but coincidentally suited Aziraphale quite well. They hadn’t gotten very far at all when their dark bedroom was abruptly illuminated with brilliant light. Aziraphale froze, pinned, he felt, by the Heavenly light pouring in through the window.</p><p>“Crowley- please- I need to stop-” he gasped. </p><p>“What is it, Angel?”</p><p>“The light- it’s-” he started, but he was overcome.</p><p>“It’s only the moon. The clouds opened suddenly and the moon came out, Aziraphale. It’s okay. It’s only the moon.”</p><p>“Why is it so bright?”</p><p>“It only looks bright because it’s dark in here. I’ll just- hold on, I’ll just turn on the bedside lamp, Aziraphale, and you’ll see it’s really not that bright.” He crawled away across the bed and turned the lamp on. Its warm glow easily outshone the moonlight but somehow Aziraphale still felt uneasy. </p><p>“You’re okay,” whispered Crowley, stroking Aziraphale’s back as they sat up in bed together. “You’re safe. Everything’s alright now.”</p><p>But Aziraphale knew that. He knew that he was okay and that he was safe. Why then couldn’t he say it out loud?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>nothing remotely sexy happens in this chapter, as it's mostly about dealing with the fallout from chapter 1 and the other fics that preceded it. This series isn't finished by any means, and I'm planning to post another fic in five days. After that, if it's ready, I will start posting a big multi-chapter fic, which will probably employ a weekly posting schedule, rather than the five day one I've been using. Anyway, hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale woke up with a headache, which was all he needed, really.</p><p>Crowley, as usual, was sound asleep with his mouth open, snoring in that peculiar, raspy way of his. His eyes were open, which on anyone else would have been creepy or even worrying. Crowley occasionally forgot to have eyelids, however, which meant that Aziraphale was used to it by now. Besides, his eyes were beautiful.</p><p>Aziraphale went to make himself a cup of cocoa to pass the time until he needed to wake Crowley up. His shop and his flat were empty and quiet, cool and sterile this early in the morning. He should have enjoyed how peaceful it was, but there was something uncanny about it. Or perhaps there was something uncanny about himself.</p><p>He woke Crowley up, bantered a little with him, and ate breakfast with him. But Crowley refused to leave. He chatted on for ages about some political development that had happened overnight and about which he cared deeply. He followed Aziraphale from room to room talking, as he put away some books that had accumulating in the bedroom. It was not yet 10 o’clock and Aziraphale was exhausted almost beyond the capacity to make facial expressions, much less hold up his end of the conversation. The last month and the events of the apocalypse had tired him like nothing he could remember, and he had the feeling that every day the tiredness was increasing bit by bit. It was a complete nightmare.</p><p>It was only through some strong hinting that didn’t Crowley have wicked deeds to do? Wouldn’t he be better off doing them elsewhere? That Aziraphale was even able to get him out the door.</p><p>Finally, thought Aziraphale.</p><p>He went upstairs to his flat, went into the bathroom, locked the door, pulled down the blinds, sat down and a good, cathartic cry.</p><p>It seemed to go on and on, quite against Aziraphale’s will. Every time he felt his absurd tears abating, he thought again of his enormous burden of guilt, how he had never managed to actually apologized to Crowley for anything. Certainly, he had never found a good opportunity, but that was no excuse. He had no-one left in his life except for his partner. And he was deceiving him every hour of the day. For centuries it seemed he sat there, crying like an abandoned child, until he perceived, rather than heard, Crowley enter through the bookshop’s front door.</p><p>He froze.</p><p>He heard Crowley’s footsteps coming up the stairs towards him. For some reason, Aziraphale was paralyzed with fear.</p><p>“I forgot to brush my teeth, angel. Can I come in?” he said.</p><p>“No,” said Aziraphale. His voice sounded choked.</p><p>“Are you taking a bath? I won’t peek, I promise.”</p><p>“Please don’t come in.” There was no way to disguise his voice now. It had to be obvious.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“There isn’t anyone in there with you, is there?” Crowley’s voice was suddenly much louder.</p><p>“You’d know if there was, Crowley!” snapped Aziraphale. “Now leave me alone!”</p><p>“Can you at least tell me what it is? Please tell what’s been going on the past few weeks. I’ll leave if you want me to, but you’re my partner. I need to know why you’re so miserable all the time.”</p><p>“I’m not miserable.”</p><p>“Please just tell me. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”</p><p>Aziraphale probably looked a mess. His face was wet and his eyes were probably red. But he couldn’t actually refuse when Crowley asked him like that. Crowley seemed very worried for him and he didn’t want Crowley to worry.</p><p>He went to the door and unlocked it. Crowley was standing directly outside.</p><p>“Oh Angel,” he said when he saw Aziraphale. “Oh my angel.” he hugged him.</p><p>Crowley put an arm around his middle and led him to the bedroom, where they sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning against each other.</p><p>“I’m not really sure why I’ve been so out of sorts lately. Well, I am, perhaps but it’s a bit difficult.” He paused, gathering his courage. “I suppose I ought to explain why I didn’t apologize sooner. That’s probably the place to start.” Aziraphale nodded to himself. He missed the look of bewildered consternation on Crowley’s face.</p><p>“I think it was partially because I’ve never given you any reason to trust anything that I said. I express myself badly and as a result my words are often insensitive.so, for that reason, I wanted to make amends not in words, but in actions. I wanted to show you- I wanted to treat you differently. They say the best apology is a changed behaviour.” He smiled weakly. “But really I think I was probably afraid that you would leave me. If I apologized for everything you’d realize how I’ve hurt you and you’d leave me. And I don’t want to be alone.”</p><p>He leaned more into Crowley’s embrace, hiding his face against Crowley’s shoulder.</p><p>“I’ve been a dreadful coward,” said Aziraphale.</p><p>“What have you ever done to hurt me?” said Crowley in a very quiet voice.</p><p>Aziraphale didn’t answer for a few seconds. He was in Crowley’s arms, possibly for the last time, and he wanted to savour it. Eventually he leaned away and said:</p><p>“Anthony, I’m sorry for not agreeing to the Arrangement the first time you asked. I’m sorry for having reservations about it even after I agreed. I’m sorry for not giving you the Holy Water you asked for in 1862, and I’m sorry for not wanting a relationship with you in 1967. I’m sorry for not agreeing with your plan to prevent the apocalypse from the start, I’m sorry for not wanting to go with you to Alpha Centauri, I’m sorry that we argued and you thought I wasn’t even your friend and I’m sorry for all the times that I implied that because you were a demon you were inherently evil. I’m sorry for always rejecting you, I’m sorry for accepting your gifts without giving anything in return, I’m sorry for telling you that you were too fast, and I’m sorry for not trusting you, for not realizing sooner that we belong together. I’m sorry for being so foolish.”</p><p>Aziraphale was surprised that Crowley then took him back into his arms and held him, but he was too exhausted to care or protest.</p><p>“Uh…” said Crowley. “Let’s take these one at a time, yeah?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded wearily. He was in for it now, not that he didn’t deserve a real dressing-down.</p><p>“So. The, erm, the various things you used to say about demons. That was, ehh, not, not very diplomatic. So, I guess I accept you apology for that. But, and this is the important bit, I always knew that you liked me no matter what you said. And I always knew that you were only saying any of it because it was what Heaven told you to think. I never, I mean never, thought you genuinely believed any of that about me. So I forgive you. You haven’t hurt me, I don’t hold it against you. You are forgiven.”</p><p>Aziraphale was stunned.</p><p>“But everything else on that list. Rejecting me? Not dating me? Having reservations about the Arrangement? Angel, you never hurt me by doing any of that. I- I love you. I don’t want to own you or brainwash you. I asked to do the Arrangement, I wanted us to date because I wanted it to be a mutual thing. I thought we’d both enjoy it, just like we’d both receive the benefits of me having holy water to kill demons with. If you didn’t want it, if you weren’t ready, then I didn’t want it either, yeah? I’m the one who should feel guilty about what happened in 1967, because I manipulated you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with. You should never feel guilty for… for not wanting to have sex with me. I’m glad you said no. I’m glad you waited until you felt safe. You did nothing wrong. You never hurt me.”</p><p>“But you thought I wasn’t even your friend anymore. You were crying.”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“In the pub. When I was discorporated.”</p><p>“Angel, I thought you’d died. I thought Hell had burnt you to death with hellfire. I went to the bookshop, everything was burning… that’s why I was so glad to see you.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“The whole time that we’ve known each other, you’ve been worried, not only for you own safety, but for mine. And you turned out to be right. Aziraphale, they nearly killed us just for trying to stop the apocalypse together. They definitely would have killed us if we’d shacked up. I don’t blame you for being afraid of people who were abusive and threatening to you. And actually, you know, when I was at your trial I was really surprised by how awful they were.”</p><p>“You were?”</p><p>“You always downplayed everything, and I forgot, as time passed, what Heaven is like. I was terrified of those people, Angel. You were right. We were not safe. They had- they had surveillance on us going back millennia. And the way the treated me, thinking that I was you…”</p><p>Aziraphale, oddly, felt… pleased by what Crowley had just said. Crowley saw it too, he thought. It wasn’t all in my head, they really did hate me.</p><p>“So thank you,” said Crowley. “You probably saved my life by rejecting all of those ideas. Especially Alpha Centauri. I am so lucky to be with you now, like this, safely, rather than having, I dunno, lived together for two days back in the sixties before getting murdered. Thank you.”</p><p>Aziraphale could not preserve his dignity in the face of such an admission. He started crying again, and humiliating as it was, Crowley didn’t back away in disgust, but simply held him until he had no tears left.</p><p>“You deserve kindness, Aziraphale,” said Crowley. “I know they told you that you don’t need kindness, that you aren’t supposed to need or even want anything, but you deserve kindness. You don’t owe me a debt. In fact, you’re the one who started being kind to me, initially. You were the one who sheltered me under your wing, who asked me out hundreds of times to dine at restaurants or attend the theatre or whatever else. That’s kindness. You’ve been very kind to me. You deserve your little… pastries or what-have-you.”</p><p>Aziraphale stayed quiet. It was a lot to process.</p><p>“Think I need to apologize, now. Eergh, yeah, so, after I fell, I got very depressed. All I did was lie around in a pool of sulfur and feel sorry for myself. So, erm, this past month, I thought that if I kept you entertained, continued some of our own habits, tried to keep you from thinking about anything too upsetting… I hoped you’d,” he waved a hand, “recover with time.  I thought if I just let you choose whether or not you wanted to bring it up, if I waited for you to bring it up on your own… I think that wasn’t a very good plan, in retrospect.”</p><p>“I never talked to you. I was secretive.”</p><p>“We’ve always had to be. Up until less than a month ago, it was the only way to be safe.”</p><p>“We may need to work on our communication skills, dear.”</p><p>“You want to improve our communication skills tomorrow?”</p><p>“Is that your solution to everything? Sleeping?”</p><p>“It’s never failed me yet.” Crowley’s voice became serious. “You must be knackered. You’ll feel better after you’re rested.”</p><p>Crowley started climbing into bed, Aziraphale stood up and glanced nervously toward his wardrobe.</p><p>“Um,” he said. “If we’re going to communicate a bit better… there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” he started rooting through the back of the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. Eventually he turned back to Crowley. </p><p>“I own a weighted blanket,” he said, “and I think it would be a good idea to use it this afternoon.”</p><p>“Oh, terrific!” cried Crowley. “I love weighted blankets I’ve got a few of my own, as a matter of fact. C’mere, Angel.”</p><p>They arranged themselves in the bed under the blanket, Aziraphale lying inside Crowley’s arms with his face against Crowley’s chest. The pressure of the embrace and the blanket combined turned his brain to mush in the most pleasant way possible.</p><p>“I love this,” he said, a little courage granted by comfort. “I love it when you… hold me like this.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Crowley. “I love it too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!<br/>If you liked this, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment. It's deeply appreciated &lt;3<br/>This fic is part of a series, and I would especially recommend reading my fics Freely for Thee, When Things Get out of Line, and Don't Judge Me to get a feel for what happens prior to the events of this particular installment.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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